


Heart-stealer

by lastofromance



Category: One Piece
Genre: Fic Collection, Fluff, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, ZoLaw, lawzo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-04-20 22:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4804196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastofromance/pseuds/lastofromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short Law/Zoro one-shots with various ratings - based on tumblr prompts, requests, random HCs, and other inspirations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heart-stealer

**Author's Note:**

> I have a great deal of longer fics in progress at any given moment, and if I begin to struggle, I'll stop what I'm doing and try something different, short and sweet, to get my creativity flowing... most of which are 'adult' in nature. Or I'll just have an idea strike me that won't let me go until I jot it down -- often the fault of fellow LawZo shippers. This first fic is one of my shortest (my version of a drabble, I suppose; I can't do word constraints well), but titular as I think it suits them best.

“Oi, asshole!”

As a thoroughly pissed off swordsman came storming across the deck of The Thousand Sunny with an aura that spoke of imminent bloodshed, Law felt an irregularly strong pulse in his chest, though he didn’t bother looking up. There were plenty of assholes on board this ship; Zoro could have meant anyone, really; and as he was quite engrossed in the novel he’d discovered in the library based around lost, ancient combat practices (it was an interesting tale, a fiction founded on little-known facts), spats between the mugiwara kaizoku interested him very little. Had nothing to do with him. Wasn’t his business.

Even as a dark shadow in the shape of another man was cast over him on the bench against the foremast where he’d taken to relaxing, he still did not look up. Merely shifted to where his book fell under the light again, licked his thumb, then turned a page.

“I know you have it, Torao. Give it up,” Zoro said, voice low and dangerous – at least, dangerous to anyone else, but not to Law. No. But grating. Perhaps if he ignored him, he would just give up and go away, or…

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said dismissively.

Another page was flipped before a sheathed white katana came down between himself and the book in his hands, blocking his view, and he slowly looked up. Blinked once, a slender brow lifting as if to say in the most innocent way possible (if, that was, Law had any innocent ways about him… probably not), _‘I certainly don’t know what you mean, Zoro-ya.’_

“Liar,” Zoro growled out, baring his teeth, “I can see it moving in your pants.”

If Zoro didn’t have the full attention of the entire crew before, he certainly had it now.

_Smirk._

Well. This could be… mildly entertaining.

“Just to be clear,” he began as he laid the borrowed novel aside, pages faced down so as to save his place before propping his elbows on his knees, resting his chin into laced fingers. Comfortable, casual, and lightly amused as he gazed upwards at the rather attractive (to put it lightly) swordsman. “You want me to 'give up’ the throbbing thing that is inside of my pants? A certain organ you’re after, I presume?”

“Yes, that thing. Give it. Now.” Crossing one arm over his stomach, the swordsman held out a palm to him, expectant and demanding.

“I’m not hearing this,” came a female voice on the lawn amidst a crowd of snickers as the navigator covered her ears and shook her head, scandalized. Franky wolf-whistled at them while Usopp and Luffy looked like they were about to cry from stifling their laughter–

“I thought you already had that last night – at least, it seemed that way from the sounds I heard,” Robin added, delightfully amused, “I never imagined you the loud type, Kenshi-san, but I believe some congratulations are in order.”

– Sanji didn’t even bother holding it in, tears streaming down his cheeks.

And Zoro’s face and the tips of his ears burned bright fucking **red**. Like tomatos, like cherrys, like valentines, and like boiled lobster. Like Luffy’s shirt or the strip around the brim of his straw hat. Many kinds of red. All of the red.

“That’s not–!” Zoro attempted, but was cut off as Brook made a skull joke of exceedingly poor taste and the raccoon-doctor began to worry over the cook, who looked like he was about to rupture his spleen as he doubled over, holding his stomach.

“I suppose you may have it.” Law decided this on a matter of diplomacy before it all went a little too far and the pirate crew ended up skewered on the swordsman’s blades. They were all very useful to him alive, after all. And thus, reaching into his coat to its lowest inner-pocket (not in his pants at all), he removed the organ Zoro was after. “I thought to make you beg for it, Zoro-ya, but I suppose there’s no harm in indulging you – for now.”

And with all innuendos aside, the assumed object of interest that he’d surreptitiously stolen during the other man’s nap a few hours prior was dropped into the man’s still-outstretched hand.

“Whatever,” Zoro mumbled between grit teeth as he slid his coat off his shoulders and placed the heart in his palm into the gaping black hole in his chest before hoisting himself up the ladder to the crow’s nest, presumably to train. Or hide away in embarrassment. Or both.

“What did I even just witness?” Nami asked to herself as the din lowered.

“The stealing of our swordsman’s heart, it seems,” Robin replied, leveling the pirate surgeon with a certain knowing look, “And succeeding. Although, I don’t think that is meant to be so literal, Torao-kun. Whatever do you plan on doing with it?”

_Heh_.

If Miss Nico had easily understood his minor sleight, he wondered how long it would take for Zoro to notice that Law had given him the wrong heart. Or perhaps it was the right one after all, he thought as he settled back into his book, depending on how one wanted to look at it.

“Cherishing it, for the time being. What else?” stated offhandedly, as if this should have been completely obvious.

It seemed as such to him, in any case. The heart in his chest was still beating slightly stronger than he was accustomed to, while his own felt quite heated in its new little home. And as he reveled in that foreign sensation, he relaxed back against the foremast as he re-introduced himself to his reading, idly flipping to yet another page.

It really was a good one.


	2. Sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rare, romantic LawZo moment courtesy of a good mood on a murky, wet, rainy day. ^_^

Zoro woke with a groan, stretching his body out across the deck of the sunny with satisfying pops and cracks in his joints and a large, dull ache coming from his backside. The ache of the best kind, along with the cramps and strains of his muscles as a reminder of a very good, very passionate night filled with positions he was sure there wasn’t even a name for. But every single one of them had been the right one, and he had felt full, so full, never wanting the feeling to stop as he pushed right back and impaled himself repeatedly on the hard cock pressing deep into his ass with a surprising, uncharacteristic amount of neediness and vulnerability he himself didn’t even know that he could possess.

But with a man of Trafalgar Law’s caliber in bed – or alone together on the soft grass, as it had been the night before – it wasn’t anything too difficult for him to come to terms with.

He shivered lightly, the parts of him that were bare to the star-scattered sky prickling cold were nuzzled back beneath the warmth covering him in the form of Law’s jacket draped over top of his own green one. The man’s natural scent was all around him, reminding him of how a forest smells after a cleansing rain replete with droplets clinging and falling from the canopies of evergreens, acting more of a blanket of comfort through the way of senses than the fabric itself, but the actual owner of it was nowhere in his immediate sight. As carefully as possible, the swordsman sat up, wincing as his body filed several complaints to his brain’s sensory cortex that he shrugged off as he palmed the deck tiredly for his pants and slid them onto his legs, followed by his coat, sash, swords – all the usual Zoro things – before looking around for his somewhat conjectural lover.

It wasn’t like they’d really talked about it. Nor had they planned it. Things had just… happened. Were still happening. Mostly physically, but if either one of them were to say that there was nothing more than that, it would have been a lie. Zoro liked having Law around, as tremendous of a distraction as he was, and watching his own feelings as they developed was interesting to him, owning up to each and every new twinge his heart could muster as deep attachment was established between himself and the pirate doctor. New things didn’t scare him – not much of anything scared him, really, and fearing the unknown was just outright dumb. Feelings fell into that just as much as anything else did or could, as was having sex that actually meant a hell of a lot more than just wham-bam-thank-you-sir (he wasn’t sure thanks would ever be enough to express his gratitude for the kind of gut-wrenching, toe-curling, teeth-grinding orgasm he’d had with Law, and his thighs still hurt from how hard they’d flexed around the man’s flanks as he was fucked into seven kinds of heaven… he may or may not have pulled a muscle… not that he cared much). Still, something about it all was oddly motivating; he wanted to train harder than ever before, push himself further, just be that much better of a man, but didn’t know/couldn’t explain why.

He eventually found Law sitting by the figurehead with one leg bent and the other kicked off the side, kikoku propped in his right arm. Bare-chested and barefoot in his typical jeans, he was simply staring forward across the horizon through the slots of the railing where dawn was just beginning to creep out in a sliver of blue atop the edge between sea and sky.

“Hey.” He touched the older man’s shoulder, finding his skin ice cold beneath his hand before he draped his jacket over his shoulders before they froze. “Thanks for this.”

Law made no move to respond, and Zoro let his touch stray down the man’s arm as he knelt beside him, over his dark tattoos losing definition to the early morning shadows, to find his fingers clenched into the wood of the upper deck with his palms propping his weight. As Zoro’s hand covered Law’s and pulled it into his lap, he studied the similarities and contrasts, how differently the callouses fell between the ways they used them – he heard the man sigh before his arm turned, and a palm was pressed warm against another.

“I thought this would be easier,” he eventually said, voice soft and calm, betraying whatever unease he was attempting to convey. But at the same time, was so quiet that his words were nearly lost to the sound of the ocean battering against the ship’s hull. “You’re strong, loyal, concise, and clearly the effort you put into your swordsmanship physically shows. Even without that, I don’t doubt you would still be very attractive. And the sex has been incredible – you put aside everything else as soon as we touch, and you’ve brought me off like no one else ever has.” Law’s eyes darted to his peripheral, flashing brightly golden and heated for but a raw moment. “–If I weren’t falling for you, I’d be a fool. You have a lot to offer a man, Zoro-ya.”

Flattery didn’t do much for an ego large enough that it could possibly build its own crew and sail off elsewhere, as if it might find the Ego Piece and one day become the King of the Egos. Though coming from Law, for once, it actually mattered. Even still… Zoro could sense the ‘but’ lurking in those words.

“What’s the problem, then?” He asked, tracing his index finger idly across Law’s palm. His lifeline, the only line he recognized, was very long, riddled with many finer ones splitting across it. He didn’t know what it meant, but maybe it was good. Maybe. He hoped so.

For a moment, Law simply stared down at their hands before replying, “The people I have loved in my lifetime have had an obnoxious habit of dying on me. Sometimes I think it is a curse, or some sort of bad luck, but more rationally, I know that it comes with the territory. It is… unpleasant, to understate tremendously.”

“If that’s all you’re worried about, then it’s good thing that I can’t be defeated.” The statement earned him the slightest, tiniest fond smile, like Law couldn’t help but be endeared by his bravado. “I’ve already made that promise to my captain. You already know about this, though, right? I am going to be the best swordsman alive. The whole world could come up against me and they wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“…I never did either,” Law said quietly, and their fingers laced fully together as Zoro allowed his head to tip to the side to rest on the older man’s shoulder, nuzzled up just enough that the tips of dark blue hair tickled his forehead where it peeked beneath his white hat.

“Good to know.” He would never admit it, but the reassurance helped. He hadn’t been too fond of the conjecture. And knowing that he was wanted there was… a nice feeling. “I’ll be demanding a lot of spoils, so you’d better be ready.”

As Law hmm’d in thought, amused, his thumb caressed the back of Zoro’s hand and the ’D’ etched permanent in his skin moved along with it, absent of the rest of its letters to form anything legible. “Keep on living, Zoro-ya, and I will spoil you until you regret that decision.”

Eventually, Law would figure out that issuing things in the form of a challenge was the best way to get what he wanted… or didn’t want, in this case. But, for the time being, it was a happy coincidence that he stated it in a way that would ensure that it just straight up wouldn’t fucking happen.

“Not even possible.”

_Bring it on, Torao._

The sun continued to rise, and the morning began to burn off the cool night air. Zoro listened to the sound of Law breathing, could nearly hear the relaxed emptiness of his thoughts, felt the slight contentment (however ephemeral that always was in the pirate’s world) heavy in his sighs as he furtively inhaled the scent of his skin – like the forest after the rain, wetting all of the earth and bringing it to life – mingling with the salt coming off of the sea.

And nothing more than the strength of the hand in his own had ever felt so warm, so large, and so right.


	3. Personal Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After chapter #800, I needed to write about that moment... THAT MOMENT. //waves arms frantically!!// I want to thank a few people for indulging me in asks and enthusing with me about what could have been going on with LawZo in THAT panel. <3

Someone desperately needed to remind the Straw Hats Pirates that there was such a thing as 'personal space'. Because apparently, none of had ever read that memo.

Or if they had, Law suspected they gave very few - if any - shits at all. As seemingly was the case with their first mate as he desecrated invisible bubble of space surrounding Law with all of the grace of a bull in a china shop, so thoroughly that it was surprising that it did not fall with an audible, glass-like shatter.  


  


**_‘Or was that a 'shamble'?’_ **

**_  
_ **

_'That's not funny_.'

  


"What the fuck, Zoro-ya--"

For the first time in days, Law had felt comfortable enough to finally relax as he settled onto the sidelines of the Yonta Maria, watching the festivities take place that had little to do with him. Often a tried and true wallflower in his adult pirating life as opposed to the loud, raucous (and often drunken) venturings of his peers, he'd always found himself more content to work from the shadows of history. Careful and quiet, typically, such as the plans he'd had laid out in dealing with Caesar, Vergo, and Doflamingo that had all... entirely not gone as he'd hoped, but the end result was satisfactory. 

Entirely in the fact that he was still alive and kicking.

  


_**‘You should probably thank the Straw Hats for that.’** _

_**  
** _

_'Mind your own damn business.'_

_  
_

Now that it was all over and done with, he could finally step back and reevaluate his situation. He needed to compensate for lost time between himself and his own crew soon, then he could shift his focus onto any one of several matters long neglected by his attention over the course of too much time lost. He still had his own life to lead, after all, and a group of men who sought his leadership that he was duty-bound -- and very contented and proudly so -- to provide.

But it seemed that any attempt to decompress and deliberate upon these things and relax peacefully, apart from crowd, was far too much to ask. The moment that Zoro dropped down beside Law and grappled him to his side in a heavy, amicable half-hug, his right shoulder took a jostling that lanced sharp, agonizing pain throughout him. His arm was still bandaged, sewn-on, and righteously fucked up, yet Law found it almost impossible to care when Zoro smiled at him. Not just any smile, but _that God damn smile_ \-- a winsome, devil-may-care expression stretching to the point where anyone could see the healthy pinks of his gums. He appeared so young and free of all care despite so many scars hinting that this was a man who'd seen far too much for his years through his one remaining eye...

Yet, he could smile like that. The heat of his body against Law's side felt like the sun on a perfect day -- like something that held the warmth of a once-upon-a-time place called home, but was just simply _Zoro_.

Roronoa Zoro, to be exact. Age twenty-one, vice-captain of the Straw Hat pirates, aspiring to be the world's greatest swordsman and already regarded by many to be among the top ten. A side-career alcoholic, day-sleeper, not exactly a critical thinker (so much as somewhat of a meat-head with a few more active brain cells than most of his ilk), but remarkably perceptive and self-aware. Honorable. Loyal. Black eyes  -- or 'eye', as it was -- green hair, 181cm in height, and presently latched onto Law's side.

... it was pretty amazing, when Law thought on it. 

A mug filled to the brim with a clear liquid -- definitely not water -- was shoved unceremoniously in front of his face. Sake more likely, or some other type of rice wine... or whatever it was that giants liked to drink, he supposed.

"Oi, Law, have a drink with me."

  


_**‘'Me', he said, not 'us'. Was that deliberate?’** _

_**  
** _

_'...What do I care? He's--'_

  


"--My arm, Zoro-ya..." he replied, voice a little bit strained through grit teeth. His mouth felt slightly dry, and more parched than he'd realized, but that could wait until the agony subsided.

"Huh?" Zoro spared Law's right side a glance over his shoulder to see that, yes, it was still a bandaged and stitched wreck.  "Oh, yeah, forgot about that." He didn't even bother trying to act sheepish or apologetic, merely gave him that same blinding grin despite the pain he was inflicting. 

Law wished it were so easy for himself to forget. He wanted to say something about that, he really did -- a scathing remark about the majority of the brains of the Straw Hat crew coming in far less supply than pure, miraculous dumb luck. It was a marvel they'd ever left any given East Blue port, let alone made it to the new world. He had the insult readied on tip of his tongue... paraphrased to 'you're a moron, Zoro-ya', but was interrupted just as his mouth opened up to speak with a mug shoved to his lips. Zoro's mug, to be precise. 

"This'll help with that."

"Wha-" Law sputtered into a mouthful of liquid, managing to get half of what Zoro tipped back down his throat in large, choked gulps with the rest all over his face, dripping down his neck. The younger man eased off once satisfied that the sake had been drained, and Law wiped the back of his mouth angrily with his left arm and cast out a rather hideous, dark glare. "-the hell, Zoro-ya, are you trying to kill me?"

But Zoro was no longer paying him any mind, happily raising his empty mug for another refill. The alcohol flowed readily, sloshing over the wide brim. Zoro grinned fiercely, thanking the large, burly giant slinging kegs beneath his arms while insuring that not a single man or woman on the massive ship went thirsty (or went sober, for that matter). And as Law watched on incredulously, realization began to set in that the pain in his arm had slowly, slowly ebbed from a stabbing pain to a dull ache, and that the pressure of a muscular arm resting upon his shoulder had eased off...

... And had wrapped itself a whole lot more intimately about his waist, keeping him close, warm, while remaining as comfortable and relaxed as before.

Aside from being in a state of mourning over the loss of his personal space, Law didn't actually have any complaints. And watching Zoro from that close of a vantage was... kind of... interesting...

Mostly, it was just that Zoro was just so _warm_. He smelled of dirt and sweat -- emanated pride, accomplishment, and blind but legitimate confidence. His smile was dimpled and perfect, infectious to anyone around him with the exception of Law, who felt himself frowning often in return or gazing back at him blandly, uncaring and even-tempered. When that smile was directed completely towards him for the first time, while half-saturated in a mug full of booze, and a sharply-sloped brow rose up at him questioningly, he expected a look of 'what's your problem?' and not 'hey, are you doing okay?' With the look in Zoro's eyes, it became harder and harder for Law to maintain his usual nonchalance.

  


_**‘Underneath it all, Zoro-ya is pretty cute. He's just your type, don't you think?’** _

_**  
** _

Smirking seemed a lot easier, so he went with it. It was his way of saying 'I'm perfectly fine.' without any need for words.

  


_'Stop it, shut up.’_

_  
_

Law's fingers drummed anxiously on the deck behind the swordsman, resisting the temptation to lift his arm and wrap around Zoro in return. To splay a hand across Zoro's flank and feel out his obliques beneath his white shirt as he wore it open, showing off all of a gorgeously muscled chest for anyone who wanted the thorough eyeful. Though the swordsman's reasoning for doing this was likely less hedonistic than Law's thoughts on the subject, but for reasons unknown, Zoro displayed for all that he had still kept his haramaki in place beneath his clothing though it was some sort of idiosyncratic pride point. Everyone was allowed one or two of them, though Law was afraid to ask if there was some intrinsic meaning behind it, if it had some sentimental value, or if Zoro's stomach was -- for whatever reason -- perpetually cold and in need of extra insulation.

  


_**‘If he needs a little extra warmth, we could always lend a hand with that.’** _

_**  
** _

_‘Stop it.’_

  


Once Zoro's mug was drained to the last drop shaken out onto the tip of his tongue, he set it down between them and looked towards Law with an unreadable expression. Still amused, but no longer smiling as he was before

"Oi, Law..." he began, dropping his voice to a barely audible volume above the din of the drunken festivities taking place around them.

"Hm?"  


Law could feel the edge of his long, tattered coat with its shorn sleeve being tugged up from beneath him. As soon as it gave beneath his weight, Zoro drew it upwards to act as a shield from any eyes that might glance in their direction. A barrier between them and any unwanted stares that Law was suddenly grateful for Zoro leaned in and pressed his lips to the top of his sternum, tonguing the dip there and riding upwards on Law's shocked gasp. Wet, unexpectedly hot, soft, and licking across his bare skin, chasing the trail of alcohol up his chin to his mouth with a mess of sticky saliva left in its place.

"I normally don't share my booze, so don't go around wasting it," Zoro breathed before diving in for a not-so-secretive kiss, lapping up the mixed flavor of Law and booze with his tongue.

Law pressed back with indulgently with fervor that surprised himself. Even with his coat in the way, it couldn't have been less obvious what was happening between them. But then again, the younger man was an idiot among idiots, and all of them present, (aside from Robin or Franky, both older and a little more worldly) were either clueless or flat out didn't care. And even if any one of them witnessed Law's good arm rising up to clutch at the back of Zoro's head, sliding fingers through the silky texture of his hair while pulling his coat tighter around them, no one said anything.

Not that Law paid the rest of the world any mind. It could fuck off for all he cared at that exact moment. He focused instead on the arm around him clutching him just _that much_ tighter, and on a kiss that deepened and lengthened, shifting from the cheap ruse of its original intent until it could no longer hold up to any potential questions of what it meant. They kept it slow between them, soft, and patient. Affectionate. Nuzzling open-mouth kisses, nips of teeth and gentle laves of tongue here and there, twisting and intertwining until Zoro eventually drifted back from their heady little lip-lock, breathless and face flushed up to his ears, cutely pinked. Clearly, he hadn't at all expected Law to be so responsive to his brazen advance... but to be fair, Law hadn't himself, either.

  


_**‘Why stop? Its obvious that he really likes us.’** _

_**  
** _

"I can't help but wonder what you'd do if I spilled it on my lap, then. Ever heard of negative reinforcement, Zoro-ya?" Law asked, amusement in his voice as he dropped his arm and allowed it to fall upon muscular shoulders, sliding his fingers down Zoro's clothed spine until finally settling them comfortably about the younger man's waist.

But Zoro said nothing. He simply let an implicative once-over of Law's body with his one eye and a maddeningly pleased grin be his only answer before turning away, rehoisting his mug once more and called for his third refill.

  


_‘Maybe I like him back.’_

_  
_

_**'It feels good to admit it, doesn't it?’** _

_**  
** _

Tightening his hold around Zoro, Law shifted his weight and made himself comfortable once more. He let the sounds of the party going on around them fade into white noise, dull and meaningless, and let his mind grow quiet. And then redrew his mental bubble of space to include one more body within it.

  


_‘Indeed it does.’_


	4. Good With Kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cute, short, modern AU moment.

They were going to be late, as usual.

8PM dinner reservations, but according to the dash screen, it was already 7:50, the sun was preparing to set, and the passenger seat of Law’s car was absent of his date as he waited. Waited.. and waited, slumping his head against the steering wheel and knocking his hat off his head and into his lap.

And he didn’t care. If it wasn’t his hat, it would be his brain. If it wasn’t his steering wheel, it would be his windshield. If it wasn’t the ignition where his keys dangled, waiting to turn the engine over, it would be a well-aimed stab to his boyfriend’s jugular. If it wasn’t his infinite, infinite patience, it would be his sanity.

If it wasn’t one fucking thing with Zoro, it was another.

He looked up and sighed as he saw the man dash across the car park in his rearview mirror in the opposite direction of the car -– _again_. And while normally this would mean that Zoro had gotten lost between his front door and the car in front of it… God only knew how that worked… or Law shooing him back inside to change out of something that reeked of I-Probably-Worked-Out-In-This, and wrinkled with time spent on the bedroom floor -- but a tiny bike on training wheels with an tinier rider squealing just ahead of Zoro told a different story.

They had actually been prepared to leave on time, for once. Then he had made the mistake of allowing himself a moment of quiet thanks that things were actually going to go as precisely and punctually as he liked them to, and ended up jinxing himself in the process. Law was a man who liked his plans to go to the letter and disliked deviation. All things _his way_. While Zoro was perpetually going _the other way_. Their only roadblock that night, quite literally, had been a couple of children playing on the tarmac– never mind the sidewalks, the soft grass, the designated play areas, or God forbid, the nearby park. No. Rather, these little ones had decided that the exact moment that they were about to go doubled as the perfect time to take their bikes out and circle the apartment complex, right behind where Law had his car parked.  
Any parents in sight to pull them aside for traffic? Of fucking course not. And while Law didn’t inherently dislike children (well, maybe a little), dealing with them (without making them cry) was not something he could count among his many talents. Not like Zoro, carrying one squealing youngster in his arms while he jogged across the lot to race a brat on his bicycle who whooped out loud as he won, and crowed out a hard-earned victory. For some reason, the man had a soft spot for these little assholes.

“YEAH! I WIN! TAKE THAT, BITCH!”

… Such language for a boy of no more than eight years old. When Law was that age–- Ugh. No. He wasn’t going there. Especially when reminding himself of... well, himself, really... was largely the reason why the prospect of speaking with or handling children –- and fuck the thought of actually having them -– was so unappealing. Gross, dirty-fingered, mucous-covered creatures from the depths of hell’s petri-dish where most diseases are conceived. Should he have gone into pediatrics rather than cardiology, his prescribed cure-all would have been ‘fire’ with a heavy dose of ‘kill it with’.

He turned his head from thumping the steering wheel once again when he heard his boyfriend’s voice raise in laughter. “Haha, you’re too damn fast, kiddo. I’m just going to have to train harder if I want to beat you,” he said, faking out of breath as he conceded to his defeat, “But hey, I gotta go. Watch out for cars, alright? Stay safe! I don’t want to be the guy who explains to your mother why your guts have to be peeled off the road with a spatula.”

“Ewww!”

Law concurred with the ‘ew’ since he actually knew what that looked like; it wasn’t pretty (but still so very fascinating). Regardless, he pressed his lips together so as to keep them from quirking up as Zoro waved the younglings off and made his way back to the car. Because sometimes, the way that his boyfriend smiled was rather childlike in itself. And sometimes....

Well. Watching him play with his neighbor’s kids was –- dare he think it? –- _exceptionally adorable_. He told himself that it was only because it was entertaining watching Zoro discover that he had intellectual equals, but… maybe not.

He adjusted his hat back on his head as the passenger door opened, and the other man slid into his seat, looking a tad sheepish. “Sorry about that. But I got them to move, anyway.”

“It’s fine, Zoro-ya. We always end up late for one reason or another,” Law replied as he started the car and gave his mirrors an extra hard look for good measure. “And you looked like you were having a good time.”

Only Zoro could make it completely okay with just a grin and a meaningless glance in his direction that it was nearly 8 o'clock and chances were slim that they wouldn’t lose their table. Even if he didn’t want/like children, there wasn’t much that Law could do in the face of biological prerogative.

Unto the effect that a man who was good with kids could make anyone’s heart pitter-patter... just a little.

(Still, perhaps over dinner, it would be the right time to hint that maybe… maybe… his apartment in his very not-family-friendly professional, residential building with its underground parking unit had plenty room enough for two).


	5. Stay Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got distracted from writing porn with an idea for another porn, because a certain SOMEONE has a knack for enabling my perversion (to be fair, that could be anyone, LawZo shippers are pervs <3). And my desire to ruin Zoro's wardrobe. XD
> 
> Either way, this short fic is completely NSFW.

The evening air was nice -- sweet, even. So much so that Zoro couldn't help but take a moment to enjoy the view as the sun sank low over the edge between ocean and sky. The blend of deep grey clouds, tinged purple on their outlines, slipping across brilliant rays of pinks and oranges was something too beautiful to pass up. It was rare for him to even care about the sights of nature, the sounds of seabirds off some distant shore, smells of the sea salt, and the feel of it misting in his face with a faint breeze as he stood facing it from the ship's rail. But it happened from time to time -- some things were too pleasing to ignore -- colors and senses begging that he indulge.

And it seemed he wasn't the only one who felt that way as a pair of arms, slimmer than his own but steeled with tendon strength, came about his middle, blue hair bereft of its usual white hat slipping into his peripheral vision. A taller body moved up behind him, close, as close as possible, chest to back with only their clothing as a barrier between them. Zoro wanted to be annoyed at the public display of affection in front of the watching eyes of his crewmates, but couldn't bring himself to do more than stiffen, covering an elegant hand with his own in warning. Fingers he loved. Delicate compared to his, longer and more slender, but infinitely capable.

"I want you to humor me for a moment... don't move, don't even make a sound," Law murmured into Zoro’s ear, followed by a long, soft lick of tongue sliding up the shell above its three piercings. Then a deliberate breath blew cool air against it in shivering contrast to his heat. "No one can see anything. Unless, that is, you would like them to."

And it was true. From any vantage, they merely looked like a couple enjoying the sunset together. An intimate, romantic moment between Roronoa Zoro, aspiring world's greatest swordsman, and his rather zealous lover, Trafalgar Law, the captain of the heart pirates. 

It wasn't half the secret they'd meant it to be in the beginning -- on such a small ship, there was too little room to hide, too much room for discovery, and perhaps Zoro had, in a way, preferred this to the alternative. No sneaking around, no lying to people he liked to keep honest with. It was less complicated like that. And the crew seemed to accept it and understand without question... though with a token amount of teasing.

Still, it wasn't to the point of comfort yet... and certainly not to the extent that Law meant to take it as one of his hands slid beneath Zoro’s haramaki, tripping and teasing over his abs. While the other disentangled from the younger swordsman’s grip to slide into his dark green coat and down, down, down to curl around his cock, conforming around its outline above the fabric covering it.

And before he could protest, Law was speaking first, tone of voice impassive and placid demeanor intact, as if this were something typical taking place, casual, nothing at all out of the ordinary. "No one can see. Relax."

And without knowing why he should listen, Zoro was rooted in place by curiosity, lust, desire -- Law's voice was sensual without meaning to be, always so suggestive and sultry. And every 'no' that he’d never voiced had been worth his every ardent _'yes, please yes yes yes'_ in its stead. Trusting in that, Zoro did his best to keep his composure while moving his arms forward to rest the heels of his palms against the railing, only vaguely registering the feel of a fingertip tracing a circle around the edge of his navel as the hand around his dick began to rub lightly, fondling through the cloth. 

"Law--" it took all he had not to moan that name, curling his fingers into the wood, head slightly tipping back, throat working to swallow as the top button of his pants was flicked open.

The warlord pressed his lips into Zoro's neck and the kiss he placed there, just beneath the lobe of Zoro’s ear, was far too chaste and delicate for his otherwise actions.

"Stay quiet," he whispered.

(Easy for him to say).

The swordsman heard more than he saw the older man draw back just enough to surreptitiously lick his palm before delving his hand further into Zoro’s pants, asserting a firm grip around his cock, claiming it like a prize. And staying quiet at that point seemed like an impossible request, but Zoro tried.. he tried not to make a single noise, not a single move, biting softly and worrying into his bottom lip. Body shaking as that hand began to slide up and down as it fisted around the head, working drops of pre-cum from him to slick the way along a little more comfortably than what mere saliva could provide.

Behind them and not so distant, he could hear his crew -- Luffy and Usopp's inane and grating chatter along with Robin's more soothing, dulcet tones -- but couldn't register what they were saying, all else a white noise as his focus narrowed to the heat blooming from his core. And each of Law's motions, rubbing at Zoro’s stomach, jerking him off methodically with subtle yet sure fingers, became more and more focal. The hair brushing his neck was silky and cool as the older man rested his cheek on Zoro's shoulder, comfortable and complacent, as if something entirely lewd and decadent weren't taking taking place with several oblivious witnesses behind their turned backs. And Zoro knew that he liked it. The secrecy. The risk. How easy it would be to get caught…

"You're insane," he barely managed above a soft hiss of desperation as Law's hand shifted just so, weakening his knees, and there was soft, hot laughter at his ear.

"Shhh... you like it. If you didn't, you would have already stopped me."

And it was true, so dirty and good that he almost wanted to beg for a 'more' that neither of them could afford. Not then. Maybe later... he could get Law back for this, he could... do something, _anything_. But it didn't matter, the thought was gone as soon as it manifested as Law's hand moved faster around Zoro’s cock with half-twists of his wrists on his downward stroke, catching at the flared tip in each succession. 

And, fucking God, Zoro was going to cum -- right in front of everyone, feeling his thighs and stomach and ass tighten madly with a need that he struggled to repress, but the more he tried, the worse the feeling became. And the warlord knew it, smirking into Zoro’s skin like a cat that had gotten into the cream; the younger man could feel it as lips pressed to his throat, as certain as the sight of the ocean and sky stretching out before him. There were things that were memorized so well that he knew them without the need for true sight, played back at the undersides of his lids. Such as the way that Law's eyes would gleam, yellow to golden, then deeper and darker when he knew the power that he had over the younger male in those moments, bringing him off so hard, so quick, every time--

That knowledge. What he did to Zoro. What he could do for Zoro. What he planned to do with him in the future -- had done, is doing, will do -- always so unpredictable yet never leaving Zoro wanting…

And this time was no different. Zoro sucked in a deep breath and heard a pleased growl eclipse the sound of his own gasp when orgasm began to shudder out of him. Body tightening and trembling for a few slow, shining moments, his cock twitched in his clothing as cum spurted all over Law's hand and wet the inside of Zoro's clothing. Thick, sticky, and hotter than the skin it traveled as it smeared his hips and dripped along his thigh. Breathing heavily, he leaned back to unwind against the taller man and felt a kiss placed upon his temple.

"You did so well, Zoro-ya," Law praised, slipped his hand out of Zoro’s pants and wiped a large mess of semen all over the swordsman's haramaki. Zoro should have been extraordinarily pissed off at the gesture, but couldn't bring himself to care. Not yet, anyway. Given a few moments, he would get there... let the temper flare up as it rightfully should… just as soon as he could breathe again.

"I will do something good for you in return for accommodating me," the older man continued, voice heavy with promise, "And soon, love, when all of the others are asleep. There are some things that are truly meant for your eyes only."

"Such as..."Zoro managed between breaths, "you doing my laundry?"

Law hummed a soft laugh. "My talents are better left to finding new ways to dirty your clothes, not so much the menial task of washing them." The nicest way to word 'do it yourself, you lazy fuck' Zoro had ever heard. 

Law withdrew from him completely... but not without a slow, deliberate grind of his hips against a firm backside first, letting the younger man feel how hard he was -- how firm and ready beneath the veneer of his clothing. And it made the messed state of Zoro’s own suddenly seem a very trivial, trifling matter.

Albeit one that was becoming very uncomfortable, very fast.

Glancing over his shoulder, he watched the warlord move across the deck, his gait almost indolent, comfortably complacent as always as he retrieved his hat and sword from where they were left near the mast and took to the crow's nest ladder, hoisting himself up and out of line of sight, likely to the library. Later, then. Zoro could have followed immediately, but decided not to. First, he needed to find a change of clothes -- if he had any at all not already ruined by Law in some way or another. Too many tears of overzealous hands and stains of various bodily fluids left in inconsiderate places; Zoro, always so consumed in the moment, had a tendency to put undressing to the wayside, thus he had only himself to blame. While his haramaki could be counted as yet another casualty of that... this time, this was definitely all Law's fault.

Once finished changing, then maybe he’d dig up something strongly alcoholic from the galley and sit back to enjoy what few vestiges remained of the sunset while he still could.

And when the sun would finally go down entirely... in a manner of speaking, Zoro finally would too. _On Law_. Though mildly sated for the time being, some indulgences were always well worth waiting for, as well as worth sacrificing the sight of dusk's first starlight. With the simple flush of his skin when aroused, Law had more sights to offer the eyes than any sky, was more beautiful than all of its colors combined. Possessing things that it lacked, with the taste and texture of his skin, his sea-scented musk, the way he moved, and the way he sometimes writhed, sweat-slathered, under the skill of Zoro's mouth. There were things in life that appealed Zoro's senses, while others melded into them deeply.

 

Experiencing how poorly Law consistently failed to 'stay quiet' himself in those moments was just another among them.


	6. Their Dynamic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt from yumitadashi on tumblr: "do you think law might misinterpret the zoro-luffy thing tho i don't know if it would end up hilarious or what. he might be called an idiot. by zoro."

Luffy’s extended arms were worming their way across the deck of the Thousand Sunny like silent, slithering serpents preparing to strike out towards a napping swordsman to grab and faceplant him onto the deck – not because he was taking up any excuse he could to wrap the man up and hold onto him tightly, but because Zoro was a wet blanket with all of the cheer of human fecal matter, the radiantly grinning captain was a pain in the ass, and brotherly rough-housing was all part of their dynamic.

Later, Zoro’s arm was flung around Luffy’s neck with his large bicep squeezing him into a headlock, knuckles rubbing harshly into his scalp in a rather brutal noogie, causing the younger man to flail and squirm and squawk – not because they were engaged in playful closeness and flirtation, but because Zoro was a wet blanket with all of the cheer of human fecal matter, the radiantly grinning captain was a pain in the ass, and brotherly rough-housing was all part of their dynamic.

Later still, Luffy’s feet were planted on the railing near the helm as he stretched himself back, preparing to slingshot his body towards the lawn with his trajectory aimed towards the swordsman’s back as he was engaged in the 680th down-swing of practicing his katas, fully intent on disrupting him completely – not because he was growing impatient and bored with the lack of attention being paid to him, but because Zoro was a wet blanket with all of the cheer of human fecal matter, the radiantly grinning captain was a pain in the ass, and brotherly rough-housing was all part of their dynamic.

Or so Law kept telling himself. Over. And over. And over. But the more he said it, the less he believed it, and in the end, resigned himself to the fact that there was something between the obnoxiously attractively swordsman and the obnoxiously… obnoxious Straw Hat and threw in the towel of finding some means of propositioning Zoro that they try to… get to know each other a little better, and… perhaps with a cup of coffee together in the morning (or in layman’s terms ‘you’re hot, I’m hot, let’s fuck’). He watched them in a mix of fascination and horror, face going flush as he distracted his gaze elsewhere and/or hid beneath the shadow of his hat’s brim whenever the swordsman glanced back in his direction with the most ridiculously knowing smirk. 

That mouth was _too pretty_.

It’d be prettier wrapped around his dick. Which was kind of a waste, he thought, as Luffy likely couldn’t appreciate it for half of what it was worth. A factor of both his age, which also equated to a lack of experience in those kinds of things, and that he projected little to nothing by outward demeanor that could be even vaguely misconstrued as sexually well-seasoned. And even if so, there was no one in the world less overt about it.

But Law wasn’t large on dwelling over these things, quickly accepting a loss for what it was and enjoyed the ship’s eye-candy while he trained shirtless out in the open sunshine, muscles flexing and un-flexing and gleaming golden with sweat. The man was indecent; Law was half-determined that as soon as he reached Zou, he needed to set about finding his own ‘man training to be world’s best swordsman’ to ornament the decks of his submarine. 

Wouldn’t be quite the same, though. That balance of abundantly bulked yet delicious proportions, the unique hair color, perfect height, the sexy and confident gait, and his absolutely killer smile – all one of a kind. And then there was that mouth…

“Oi, Torao.” 

He looked up from his indelicate musings as the swordsman approached him and he gathered himself to his feet, relaxing back against the foremast with his nodachi perched on his shoulder. A slender brow canted up in a silent, ‘ _Yes, Zoro-ya?_ ’

“I could use the help of a doctor,” Zoro said as he planted a palm against the mast over the surgeon’s shoulder, propping his weight as he leaned in a little too close for comfort. Law could feel the heat of the sun coming off his bare skin – could practically taste it. “I’ve heard that a prostate massage has several health benefits. Care to join me in the training room tonight and show me how its done? Maybe an instructional video feed projected onto the mirror?”

Law’s brain died for a moment and his expression went slack, stuttering as he attempted to smooth out his lost composure. “Those are terrible lines. Also, I don’t think getting between you and Mugiwara-ya is good idea; even if he wouldn’t mind, I’m not a fan of taking seconds.”  
  
The most decent way he could think to convey a rather possessive streak; Trafalgar Law was a man who _owned his things_. He simply did _not_ do sharing.  


“… Seconds? Wait, you don’t actually think…” Zoro paused, giving a healthy snort before moving in closer, bumping his nose into the surgeon’s. “Not even. Luffy’s my captain and we are friends. _We’re nakama_. Idiot.” 

As much as Law wanted to bite back at him in defense, point out that even as such, the two were eerily close and nearly flirtatious and it was an easy mistake for anyone to make, really, the swordsman’s warm lips suddenly pressing into his own, muffling anything and everything he could have thought of in retort… suddenly made his points seem very unimportant.

Law’s arms wrapped around the other man’s shoulders and pulled that hard, sinfully hot body against his own as his mouth opened up under the demand of a deeper kiss, a velvet tongue licking almost gently, teasingly, against the tip of his own.

– Not because the other man was completely available and wasn’t forbidden fruit and the thought of a torrid night of banging the swordsman raw was very appealing, but because _all of the above_ and Zoro was ready and willing, Law was secretly kind of a huge lech beneath his mask of cool indifference with a thing for rippling obliques and tight glutes…  
  
And freely making out on the lawn in front of the Straw Hat crew before he was dragged off somewhere more private was apparently all part of their dynamic.


	7. Doctor's Note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random (sexy) headcanon time! Just. Doctors. Sigh.

Zoro's single eye blinked tiredly as a spread of soft off-black came into bleary focus in the form of unfamiliar but comfortable cotton sheets that his legs slid against as his motor functions awoke and muscles resettled, his spine stretched, and his arm flopped onto the empty adjacent pillow next to his head. It wasn't his bed, nor his blanket covering him mid-way up his hips, and he wasn't even on his own ship, but it didn't matter. If one took no account of the metal, bolted, grey and cold and unwelcoming walls (and oh, if these ones could fucking _talk_ ), he could have been laying in a Law-scented heaven... supposing that heaven was a silky, soft place with a mattress that half-conformed beneath the shape of his body while lending it an absolutely perfect amount of support, even for a habitual back-sleeper. If, that was, a heaven at all existed. Probably not.

Even if he'd seen a few glimpses of some spiritual awakening at the backs of his eyelids only the night before. Just. Holy fucking _fuck_ , where, he wondered, did Law learn how to do _that_? Surely not from any medical textbook. How anyone ever even conceptualize what he... and then how he... but Zoro was certain nature hadn’t intended for the ope-ope no mi to be used in that way. Well, regardless of the specifics, the older male had to have put a lot of careful thought into what exactly he'd wanted to do once he had the swordsman completely alone in his bedroom; everything he'd done had been almost tailored to Zoro's body exactly, as though Law had studied him intensely and taken measure of all of his parts and knew, by rote, which places were the best, the most sensitive (even the ones Zoro himself wasn't even aware of), to carry out his offensive and pare all of his senses apart with his hands. The whole affair had been perverse as hell, but hot and good and sticky, and the pleasure had been incredibly intense. His hips were left a mess of violence, all raw scrapes of blunt fingernails, shallow bruises (but to be fair, half of those were kiss-marks), and indentations from a moment when all of the surgeon's carefully wrought self-control had been tossed out to the sea and he'd gripped a little too hard, groaning his name aloud...

... And _goddamn_ , Zoro's name had never sounded so sexy coming from anyone else's lips.

To the extent that he'd almost give up everything just to hear it said that way again.

Almost.

Still, the marks scoring his chest, on the other hand... were very intentional. He could actually see, as he ducked his head, the perfect outline of Law's teeth just to the right of his solar plexus at the curve of where his rib cage began, a few at his nipple, and several similar marks were likely at his inner thighs. The ones on the back of his knuckles, though... freshly scabbed over, unlike the others that never broke skin, were entirely self-inflicted.

One hand idly rubbed at his chest tiredly as the other propped his weight into a half-sitting position. Somewhat surprised as he should have found a large mess of bodily fluid there (and not all of it his; Law was definitely not a man who took foreplay for granted), particularly in the dip of his clavicles and top of his sternum... and a little on the underside of his chin... but his skin was clean and dry. He didn't remember washing up, but then, he didn't remember falling asleep either. Hell, he didn't even remember what the room had looked like the night before, nor the bed and the comfort it afforded, not even the color of the sheets and blanket as he'd been entirely focused on Law when he'd actually managed to hold his one eye open. If it weren't for his clothes strewn haphazardly all over the room, the marks and the taste of salt in his mouth, sweat and semen still lingering at the back of his throat, it could have been any other morning. Or night. It was actually not easy to tell in a window-less room in the lower portion of Law's ship, half-submerged in the water.

What he did know was that he was alone. And with a stretch of his tired senses, it seemed almost entirely so, and all was very quiet. The only hint of life was a lone human, bereft of that distinct Law-like aura of imperturbable haughtiness and raw power, and he deduced that the captain of the Heart Pirates had left at some point onto the shore with his crew, leaving one man behind to keep watch while Zoro slept on.

And conveniently, he'd left a note for him on his bedside table. Or what looked like a note as it had his name on it... maybe... there was a large 'Z' and a few smaller scratches of three letters, anyway (perhaps that was an 'oro', absent of the 'ya'... which made him feel good for some reason, even though he found the odd honorific kind of endearing to the extent that he was 50/50 on how he felt about it eventually, inevitably being dropped; the formality between them being unnecessary), on a folded bit of card paper sitting aside an unopened bottle of ale that had condensation enough dripping the side to show that it had been chilled at some point. Perfect. The stupid shit-cook aboard his own ship could learn a thing or two from Law about how to prepare a decent breakfast.

A man who was seriously after his own heart, and doing a damn fine job of getting to it. Figuratively speaking. But there was future room for doubt that the sentiment could become literal. Law wasn't exactly predictable, especially with his intentions, but somehow... eh, Zoro trusted him, and seeing as he'd been left on the man's ship with one sole (and easily discerned as a weaker) occupant while his three swords were propped reverently at the foot of the bed, it seemed reciprocal. And he appreciated that for what it was. Zoro could do some serious damage if he were so inclined...

But he wasn't. And Law knew that.

As he cracked the bottle and took a few large swallows, and _oh shit_ , Law had good taste -- caramel hints and malty with the alcohol content making itself known in a pleasant bite -- he unfolded the note left for him. Expecting something along the lines of possibly where the older man went, when he'd be back, and/or whether or not it'd be worth his while to hang around and wait for his return...

But instead, what he got was a mess of illegible scrawls and lines of what couldn't have possibly been actual letters. 'Squiggles' was the more apt term, and no matter how much he turned the paper or squinted, or even tried to use the bottom of the brown bottle in his hand in a desperate measure as some form of secret message decoder - like Law really valued discretion so much that he'd leave a straw hat member alone in his bed, and armed, but not an overt letter -- but no. Nothing like that.

Fucking hell. It was like staring at a Rorschach test or something.

Law had **doctor's handwriting** of all damn things.

No one could read that shit. No one. It was impossible. And incredibly, tragically **typical** of him.

Sighing, Zoro balled up the note and tossed it in the general direction of one of his boots, attempting to make a basket as he gulped down his 'breakfast'. And after short deliberation, decided he'd resettle for a little while and enjoy the comfort of Law's bed and his scent on the pillow -- definitely not mash his face into it and breath it in while in the discretion of solitude, not at all (why did Law insist on always smelling _so good?_ ) -- before he eventually redressed himself and found his way back to the deck of the ship, and asked the remaining pirate if he had any relevant information on Law's whereabouts before heading back to his own to check back with his crew.

Because if Law had written anything about it at all, or whether he'd penned a confession of his love to Zoro in the most touching and profound usage of language possible, the world would never know.

And even a man seeming so outwardly perfect -- in the way he thought, the way he looked, the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he smelled, the way he kissed, and the way he fucked -- there had to be some sort of flaw or catch somewhere in the design.

But writing, much like talk, was cheap. Actions always spoke louder than words, anyway.

(And what Law really had to say, if the night before was anything go off of -- transcended anything that could really be put into even the most immaculate of penmanship humanly possible).

And, Zoro thought as he buried himself in soft, off-black sheets, a hell of a lot more satisfying. Definitely.


	8. Traditions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a request from an anon for a Law birthday fic - managed to finish it with only 30 minutes left on the date. lol.

No one truly knew Trafalgar Law’s date of birth.

Not even his crew. It wasn’t a secret, but when asked (and asked repeatedly - pestered him, really), he had no answer to give them. Because if someone knew, they might try to celebrate, and it had been a long standing tradition for him to go about the Sixth of October in complete solitude. Birthdays come and go for everyone, unspectacularly, unimportant, and if it didn’t mean so much to the few people in the world that he genuinely could say he cared for, he wouldn’t have celebrated theirs no more than his own.

He remembered turning 10.

If his devil fruit power could open a Room through time, he would step through the vortex into that moment and carry himself back 17 years.

There would be candles on a large cake and a sister twice as eager to taste it than himself. Gifts, done up in pretty paper and ribbons – their contents ranging from lavish to practical. His favorite meals prepared for him in the way he liked best. And the singing. _The singing_. His father would always hum that silly birthday tune throughout the day at random intervals, as if he needed that remindment while drudging through the more mundane tasks of the day that it was still special. As if every moment were a pure celebration of his life, and he had felt it.

Now, there was only quiet with the muted din coming from above in the form of a group of mistakes in human evolution, echoing from his quiet spot in the hold. Their stomping feet resounded as they gallivanted about the deck of their hideous ship, undulating atop the ocean as it made its way towards Zou.

No songs for Law that day. No party favors that day. And no turning out the lights to make a wish on a glowing number 27 that day. Nothing that day at all; he was okay with that.

If he were even lucky, somewhere in a rusted old filing cabinet inside a crumbled and burnt husk of a building that had once been a hospital, his birth certificate might still exist, dated October 6th.

May still exist. May not exist.

But the day itself had become so mundane that it may as well have been erased from the calendar.

The years fluttered by and away from him, time growing wings and taking flight; the more it passed, the quicker it passed, the less it really mattered. But skipping this day and sleeping through it alone had become his own sort of strange tradition. He wasn’t young anymore and had no need for milestones, was comforted by the lack of them… and yet…

“Oi, Law. Happy birthday.”

He opened his eyes in the low lantern-light and was greeted by a bottle of red wine prodded against his shoulder and the scarred visage of the straw hat swordsman, his expression as characteristically ambivalent and noncommittal as always. Not at all who he had expected, but then, he hadn’t expected anyone at all.

“… What.” A blink, nictating back sleep. “How did you know?” He asked warily as he righted his posture, skeptically watching the younger man drop himself to sit alongside him against the hull’s inner wall, pulling at a cork with his teeth, then filling two glasses precariously balanced by their stems between the fingers of his other hand.

“Lucky guess.” Zoro half-shrugged and passed him a glass, assuming that he wanted it.

He assumed right, at least.

“I sincerely doubt that.” The wine smelled under-ripe, grape-bitter, as he tilted it in its glass and watched its purplish-red colors swirl together. Pungent and tangy… cheap. That was of no surprise. He drained his glass regardless, and it was just as harsh and green on the palate as he’d expected. But alcohol was alcohol – even if not the preferable sweet and dry burn of sake that he could perpetually smell as it bled off Zoro’s pores, it sufficed.

“Does anyone else know?” He held his glass out for a refill.

“Don’t think so. I haven’t told anyone. No point.”

“I see.” Law wouldn’t have suspected, anyway. Even if he couldn’t understand, was a few years and few tragedies shy of understanding, Zoro was the kind of man who knew how to mind his own business. Which made the moment, and his presence within it, so much more of a mystery. Still, “That’s good, then. I don’t need to be bothered today; I prefer not to think about it.”

“Nothing wrong with aging a little. You look pretty damn good for twenty-seven. Probably look just as hot at 40, if not hotter. But then, I’ve always liked older men.” Stated so offhandedly and matter of fact, Law couldn’t help but smirk… because that was true enough; his genes were good ones to have, in any case. His father had been a handsome man and his mother, infinitely beautiful, and had retained all of the looks of her youth with only the most subtle lines of her oft smiles visible around her mouth and eyes. Those natural gifts were passed on, and he was well aware of them if the way the eyes that lingered upon him were anything at all to go by. Frequently held longer than what was considered polite – despite the perpetual darkness beneath his own, it didn’t seem to be much of a detractor.

And he wondered if this was Zoro’s poor attempt at flirting or just a casual observation. He knew that the younger man was attracted to him, but more importantly, he had been attracted right back. And then _he_ was the one caught staring at a handsome face for a little longer than he should have. A little swash and arrogantly rugged, but he liked that type – he liked the perfect symmetry, shaken up from its flawlessness by one eye scarred shut. He liked that generous mouth (with so much potential for how it might look engulfing a certain part of his anatomy), and the rather gorgeous, dimpled smile that went with it. Completely his type, he supposed, if he had one of those at all.

Drinking deeply, he pondered this, mildly amused with himself, amused at the way Zoro held his glass like he was doing shooters rather than drinking wine, until the realization hit. That not only did the younger swordsman know that it was his birthday, but also his age. Another detail that had been long lost on the calendar pages to all but himself, and immediately, his expression darkened.

“Tell me how you know,” he said, the bite of a demand in his tone. The kind that would remind any lesser man that kikoku was close at hand and that his ‘surgeon of death’ epithet was still in place, and for good reason… but Zoro was not a lesser man, and he wasn’t likely to be so easily intimidated, not as much as he might see a worthy challenge. One of many things the man might have wanted in him, he supposed. What Zoro himself liked.

Instead of rising up to it, the swordsman drained his glass in one swallow and set it aside, reaching behind him into his haramaki for a folded sheet of paper. Water-warped, age-stained and bloated, yellowed tape over torn edges, and creases that the man tried to smooth out against the wooden floor of the hold; the writing was distorted, but Law knew what he was looking at just by the seal on its upper right hand corner.

And in large lettering across the top, as it was passed into his grabby, eager hands:

**Kingdom Of Flevance  
Certificate Of Live Birth**

His full name, his parent’s full names, their occupations and birth dates and signatures, as well as that of the attendant. The date of his own birth, down to the hour – down to the minute.

“Found that on the ground near the records office in Dressrosa. It stood out. I thought that you might want it back.”

Law’s mind reeled as his sinuses began to ache, inflamed, and stung at the backs of his eyes from their hollow. There were a thousand explanations for how this could have happened, but it didn’t matter.

Someone had found that file cabinet. Someone had rescued this. Someone who thought it – and him – important enough to save. And that someone was a mystery; the connection was an obvious enough one to make, and could be just as likely a malignant gesture as a kind one, but it.didn’t.really.matter.

Here and now, with a one and only memento in hand, that was what mattered.

 _If his devil fruit power could open a Room through time, he would step through the vortex into that moment and carry himself back 17 years_. And he would take Zoro with him, just so he could understand what this meant to him. To know that such a small gesture had so much more meaning than just finding and keeping a piece of paper. Ultimately, the paper itself wasn’t what held importance, but what it represented.

How nothing else could be comparable. With a cake and a party hat, candles and ribbons, and the deep, mellifluous hum of a _happy birthday to you_

 _to Law_  
to your son, who misses you today, more than anything else.

From a father who’d never had the chance to give him an awkward sex talk, or tell him that there was nothing wrong with liking other men and how he and mother would love him regardless of his choices – how little weight his sexuality held for them. From a father who couldn’t voice his disappointment at his pirating career, nor his pride in how many lives Law had saved in that same long stretch, doubling his role of captain with that of a physician.

Who would never have a beer with him after a long day; who would never chastise him for indulging in a third glass of cheap wine in quick succession. Who would never ask embarrassing questions of the first man Law would introduce as his boyfriend and earn his eternal – but not heartfelt – ire.

And somehow, for the first time in 17 years, there was someone beside him that he thought he would like him to meet.

His eyes shut to stave off the burn in them; not tears, as just like milestones, he had no need for them as an adult, but it didn’t mean that the emotions weren’t still in existence, but only quietly running their course in their own way. And when he leaned into the younger swordsman, he was met halfway with arms coming around his midsection, their glasses mutually forgotten, if not the bitter aftertaste.

(But not for long).

He didn’t say 'thank you’. That would have been pointless and redundant as it was already a given.

Instead, he kissed him, deeply and soundly, the way he should be kissed. Made it meaningful, made it memorable - made it matter. So that in time, they’d both remember that exact moment, with Zoro’s fingers raking into his hair, knocking his hat off his head, giving eagerly beneath the shichibukai’s mouth. So as to remember the way their lips slid perfectly together into soft nuzzles, gentle bites, and plunging tongue.

It didn’t require wine, nor an important piece of his past self to be that passionate; Law would have been the same way without, nonetheless.

October 6th was now the day he and Roronoa Zoro shared their first kiss.

Maybe, he thought, it was about time that he started up a new tradition.


	9. A Little Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt meme, anon requested: "Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?" 
> 
> (!!! I still need to finish up the rest of these prompts, but one of my drabbles grew legs and ran off)!

Zoro was still. Completely still. His brow folded and concentrated as he stared down his enemy and waited, waited... for that perfect moment that their will would fold beneath his own and crumple as it always did.

Unfortunately, it had been nearly an hour and this particular will was staring right back at him completely unperturbed and uncrumpled. Really, a little voice niggled in the back of his mind, he knew it was ridiculous –- that he was being ridiculous. It had started when Luffy had said, innocuously as always in the midst of some bored babblings, “Ne, you guys ever notice that Torao never really smiles?” And by ‘smile’, he meant the genuine sort of smile, not that devilish and wickedly sexy (so Zoro thought) variety that gave one the impression that they might later find crawdads in their bed, or toilet paper strung all over their mast, or their shipmates potentially disemboweled... or something equally unpleasant. But really, truly, an expression of pure happiness.

“Zoro-kun didn’t used to smile much either, though now I bet even he’d crack first if it were a contest,” Usopp had replied. And in retrospect, the long-nosed bastard should have probably died for that comment. Even if he hadn’t intended to bait the swordsman, a blatant challenge was there and done regardless. And Zoro, galvanized, had risen to accept as always. And thus, though with token protest and indignation on Law’s part, their staring contest commenced.

In a way, Zoro just wanted to see if it was possible for the warlord to really break.

But he had his severe doubts.

At first, it’d been nice staring into Law’s eyes intently with the easy pretense provided for him, studying the curious yellow lines within his irises in a way that no one ever could before. The darkness beneath almost looked perpetually bruised, but seemed lighter up close against the contrast of his thick, black lower eyelashes, and using his peripheral vision, Zoro was able to to take in all of the Heart captain's handsome features in detail. His overall groomed appearance, a fine bone structure, the arc of his brows, the slope of his nose and a soft, generous mouth – looking for all intents and purposes as though he would die of boredom before those undeniably kissable lips would ever curve upwards for anyone.

The Straw Hat crew had taken it upon themselves to try to hurry things along as the evening grew tired, making jokes about Zoro’s hair, debating if Law had ever had rice stuck in his goatee after lunch, what either of them would look like in bright red lipstick, waved chopper-like antlers with wiggling fingers over their heads, attempted to stick things up their respective nostrils, and so on and so forth. Aside from being largely annoyed with this, the two competitors barely blinked, and the challenge continued on until the others grew bored and lost interest.

“They kind of look like they’re gonna kiss. I think we should let them get a room,” Franky eventually joked, and that’s when something in Law’s expression suddenly shifted, eyes sharpening and gleaming slightly at the edge. It was subtle, but after staring for so long, even the most trivial of changes seemed large and significant to the younger swordsman.

“You know, Robo-ya may have the right idea,” Law murmured, voice dropping low so as not to be heard by the others as he leaned in close to Zoro, then closer, until the space between them was almost nothing, “what do you think?”

“I...” But Zoro honestly didn’t know what to think, mind blanking out as the tip of the older man’s nose touched his own. He could feel warm breath brush against his lips and his face began to burn furiously up to his ears. Was he blushing? Oh, _fucking hell_. He felt the urge to step back, but he held his ground instead, arms crossing defensively at his chest. “I don’t--”

“You dont...? What? You don’t think I had noticed the way that you look at me? The way you’ve been staring all this while like a starved man with only one thing on his mind? Maybe I have been thinking about it too.” That mouth was so close to his, Zoro could capture it with the slightest upwards tilt of his head. Just a little bit closer and... and. and. and.

And no. Not in front of the others. Zoro apprehensively bit into his lower lip as Law continued on, “I think we should abandon this childish game and go elsewhere. Alone. I’d be very interested in learning how to make you smile in a more hands on way, so to speak.”

Zoro was very interested in that as well - so much that it sounded too good to be true, and just barely caught himself before his face broke out into a large perverse grin as he realized that it was the entire point. Law was trying to psyche him out and he was about to completely fall for it. Instead, he grit his teeth, and the way his lips curled was not in a smile, but in a vicious, animalistic snarl of warning. _Back the fuck off_ , it said.

And that’s when he heard it. The tiniest, littlest, smallest, tinylittlesmall snicker hidden into the palm of Law’s tattooed hand, yellow eyes sparkling down at him adorably with mirth. “I'm sorry. But your expression just now, Zoro-ya....”

“Did Torao-kun just smile? Ha, Zoro wins! Pay up!” Nami cheered while the remaining crew members groaned, forking over their bets. There were many negative things he had to say about the navigator, but Zoro was glad that he had at least someone’s vote of confidence.

Not that even he himself had expected to actually win.

And it didn’t feel like half the victory that he could have hoped for. More of a loss as the warlord regained his composure, slowly eased away, and found a comfortable place to relax himself with his back pressed against the railing, resting his weight upon it by the heels of his palms. For a moment, Zoro debated throwing the sexy bastard off the side of the ship for toying with him, but quickly decided against it; being one of the few non-fruit users and with the cook nowhere in sight, it’d likely be up to him to fish the older male out of the sea and made it less of a dignified revenge than anything else. Rather, he needed a drink. A potent one.

“Hey, before you go...”

“Hm?” Zoro looked towards Law, brow lifted.

“I wasn’t bluffing, just so you know. And I’m still waiting to hear your answer.” Law was smiling again, but it was back to the devilish, dubious and amused type of little sexy smirk. “Are you interested?”

Zoro thought on it. Deliberated. Not that it took more than half a second before he then blurted, “What kind of stupid-ass question is that?” And grabbed onto the Law's arm and began to drag the man out of the rest of the crew's line of sight to finally seal his hard-won victory. A kiss, long, hot, deep, and with just the right amount of tongue to make his knees go weak as he was unceremoniously shoved up against the ships outer wall.

While wrapping his arms firmly around his ‘prize’, Zoro finally allowed himself to smile, victorious.


	10. Stitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter #802 and everyone having a fit over Law's shirt (it _is_ a nice shirt) was pretty much asking for this.

Zoro wasn’t used to sleeping through the night. Typically assigned late watch when on the Sunny, he had grown accustomed to tucking in just as the sun crept over the horizon and napping throughout the day. But this was Bartolomeo’s creepy-ass fanboy ship, not his own little home on the sea, and keeping vigilant for unwelcome visitors throughout the AM hours was not his present responsibility.

Still, for once in his life, he was having a hard time getting in a little shut-eye after years of routine. But nothing, he thought, that a stiff drink wouldn’t quickly resolve.

As he entered the Going Luffy-Senpai's unfamiliar galley, he paused and squinted as his one eye adjusted to the room's sudden bright light, contrasting the dark, star-spattered, outside night sky. And as all came back into focus, he could make out the rather distinct figure of Trafalgar Law stationed at the dining table, burning the midnight oil. The man was naked from the waist up (which was some ridiculously hot eye-candy, he had to admit), wearing his typical white hat, holding onto a fist full of a button-up shirt....

And a threaded needle in his other hand. Glaring up at Zoro from... _sewing_ of all things, what appeared to be a lovely white fucking heart into the dark fabric, decorously curling inward much like the tattoos on his shoulders.

For a long moment, the two merely stared at each other, until the younger swordsman snorted out loud then finally spoke, “Embroidery, Law? Seriously?”

Certainly not a hobby befitting of a pirate captain of his notoriety. Punching and cutting things and drinking a lot, maybe, but threading and stitching... not so much. But, hey, whatever floated his boat? Or his submarine. Whatever.

Still, Zoro couldn’t help but throw in (for good measure), “That’s not screaming gay pirate or anything.”

With a small sound of amusement, the former warlord set his (quite neatly done) work carefully aside and crossed one ridiculously long leg over the other, somewhat casually and mannerly, his yellow eyes glinting up from beneath the shadowed brim of his spotted cap. “You say that like its an insult,” he said (lack of denial noted), unaffected as he half-turned in his seat to watch as the younger swordsman began to raid the galley for booze. “Besides, I wouldn’t say that staring at me longingly the majority of the time that we’re in the same vicinity, usually half-chubbed, is particularly straight. Nor the way you moan my name in the shower, presumably in the midst of some heavy self-gratification. But please, I’d be interested in hearing more about the homosexual connotation of expressing pride in my role as captain of my crew.”

Ah, shit.

First thought that came to mind: _Law noticed that?_

Second: _Law heard that?_

And third: _Dammit._ Though, he also vaguely wondered if Law were a man who ever held any of his punches, but immediately realized that he’d likely been saving that bit of information for the last few weeks. Information put to best use when dropped with largest amount of impact. Unfortunately for Zoro’s sense of pride, as well as discretion, Law had found it.

And as he crossed his arms beneath his male-bosom, feeling his cheeks and ears burn, all he could think to say in his defense was, “Shut up.” before darting his gaze away awkwardly.

“And another thing.” Apparently, shutting up was not on Law’s agenda. “What was that book that I saw you reading when we were on our way to Dressrosa? With a few dog-eared pages, even. Something like 'The Joy Of Antiquities', wasn’t it?”

_Fuck._

“Stop already, asshole. I was reading about my katana and its history with the Wano kingdom, because Kin'emon wouldn’t shut up about the thing,” he replied, bristling in defense.

“I also have it on good authority that you knit your haramaki yourself," Law continued on in his typical, casual drawl, irritatingly matter-of-fact, though his narrowed eyes were gleaming almost gold with mirth, "You do nice work on your purl-stitch, Zoro-ya, but then I imagine you are more than adequately experienced with putting large, thick rods into very small and tight holes.”

“Okay, okay, I get the picture,” Zoro replied with a growl, pulling the cork from a bottle of something he'd unearthed that looked vaguely alcoholic, and drained it in nearly one swallow. All the while unable to meet the older man’s smug look from the other side of the room.

“Good,” Law said, resettling himself back at the table to resume his project, “We all have our idiosyncrasies. They don’t always have to mean something.”

“Right.” Zoro got that. But more precisely, he got that it was a better idea to leave the other man alone with them lest his own come into question. Ones that he couldn’t answer to without blushing the way he was at that moment, and were so very sadly rife with allegations that held too much truth to contend without falling back on outright lies.

He turned to exit the galley with a second bottle in hand, intent on getting back to his makeshift bed on the deck and possibly try to get some actual sleep when Law’s voice reached him just as his hand was at the door.

“I will be finished here shortly,” the man murmured, back turned to him, but there was an audible hint of a smirk remaining in his distant, offhand tone, “If you plan on being awake for a while, you’re more than welcome to undress this from me with your eyes as much as you do everything else I wear. But I have found that using your hands is a lot more mutually beneficial. And _pleasurable_.”

With no definite way to misjudge that proposition, the swordsman paused there, then grinned fiercely to himself. “I guess I should leave you to it, then.”

The sooner he finished, the better. And sleep could definitely stand to wait, just as always, until sunrise.

And in that meanwhile… he was eager to find out if Law’s back stitch held up to his tight curves as well as Zoro imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Law would totally take Zoro antiquing on the weekends.


	11. At The Rate We're Going

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prompt that came from Yumitadashi on tumblr. I had multiple choice out of five, and I picked: "If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed." As you guys can probably guess, this one is mildly NSFW, but not too much! I have so many smut fics in progress, you have no idea. xD

It wasn’t Zoro’s usual kind of place, a little more upscale than what he liked, but this was (if he’d read the sign right) where Law had asked him to meet. Specifying, 'come alone' more curt than usual with his words as though using any further than was necessary might cause him to second guess his proposition. It had taken the swordsman a while to arrive, the streets all topsy-turvy and backwards, and he’d figured, a tad disgruntled as he wandered and wandered and _wandered_ the large port town, whether the inn with its quiet downstairs tavern actually existed at all or if the older man had just been fucking with him.

But the longer trek was good in its own way -- took the edge off his nerves, somewhat. Not that he’d admit to having a butterfly or two flitting about in his stomach… a stupid concept, really.

Regardless, some hours later, he found himself sitting at a shadowy corner table with a large glass of house porter ale that wasn’t bad, not bad at all; the bite was potent and not nearly as watered down as he’d expected, and the ambiance was actually kind of nice. Intimate. Dim lighting, unobtrusive and soft music running off an old pianola, highly polished wood for the bar top itself and the stools and chairs looked antique and classic as though they’d weathered their fair share of years rather well. It was, however, slightly busy but not a pushy crowd; the patrons looked a little older, more the sleepy local working types than the thoroughly soused losers and barflies he was accustomed to seeing at the usual dives he visited when on an island's shore.

But also meant for no exciting brawls and the always-entertaining sight of a meaty barkeep heaving inebriated hot heads (which once or twice had included Zoro himself in his earlier days of youth) out onto the cold street by the scruff of their necks.

All in all, it was kind of nice. Relaxing.

As he signaled the bartender for another, he began to wonder what the hell was keeping the Captain of the Heart Pirates so long as Zoro knew he’d been more than an hour late for their meeting… rendezvous… date… call it what you will. With a fresh drink in hand, he began to scan the crowd over the lip of his glass as he drank, in case he’d missed the older man’s arrival, and just barely managed to spot him near the bar.

And when he did, nearly fucking choked.

Law was staring at him, studying him intently and had been for quite a while if the few empty glasses behind him were at all telling. Dressed in his typical spotted jeans, but ones seeming so much tighter that they were likely just on the edge of uncomfortable but made his long legs, splayed apart in front of him, seem so much longer. Thick-brimmed hat on his head as usual, kikoku at his side, and brazenly wearing what looked suspiciously like one of Zoro’s shirts, worn unbuttoned to display just how low those jeans hung around the slender curves of his hips. But these things didn’t have his attention so much as the man’s body language. Toying with a little cocktail straw bitten between his teeth, thighs spread invitingly, relaxing back against the bar with the most heated look he’d ever seen in another man’s gaze.

The tyle he would have coined the mother of all ‘come hither’ looks if the warlord wasn't gathering himself to his feet to _hither_ in Zoro’s general direction first.

 _Fuck_.

Feeling more than a little hot beneath his collar, the swordsman drank deeply from his glass to center himself as Law approached and slid down in the seat opposite from him, abandoning his chew-toy and letting his nodachi stand against the wall and close at hand, should he need it. There were a few moments of silence, interspersed by a few errant skipped heartbeats in Zoro’s chest, and as though sensing them, the other man offered up a wicked little smirk in return – hardly the most reassuring of expressions.

“Took you long enough to get here, Zoro-ya,” the warlord finally said, lazily resting an elbow on the table with one side of his jaw propped against his palm, “But as I was expecting you to be late, I decided against being so punctual myself.”

“Not my fault these damned streets keep changing around,” he replied, not defensive, but rather matter-of-fact.

“Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t.”

So like him to never confirm nor deny anything at all, Zoro couldn’t help but smile rather than say anything at all in rejoin. Couldn’t if he’d even wanted to when beneath the table, he felt Law’s hand touch against his kneecap and immediately, as if by impulse, he intervened with his own to lace their fingers together. A gentle gesture. A lover’s gesture. A small, secret, show of affection somehow felt so immensely significant that it almost baffled him for a moment, with how much easier it always was to just strip away his clothes and spend all night pinned beneath the weight of the other man than something as simple as holding his hand. But there was no need to think deeply on the subject -- like most things, he never bothered. With Law, especially with that look in his eyes, any and all touch the man had to offer made his body tighten so much with want that he almost couldn’t stand his own self half the time. Uncomfortable and itching in his own skin, too small to contain his agitation, his need for something else. Someone else.

Which was of no surprise, anymore; a feeling he became quickly familiarized with. From the moment that he’d first laid eyes on Trafalgar Law, he’d known that he was completely fucked. Figuratively at first, and then later it was quite literal. That feeling had become his brand new addiction, in a manner of speaking.

Because no amount of booze in the world could ever heat him up the way that Law could. Just with a touch, just with a certain look....

And they were finally alone together, at least relatively -- all faces around them were those of strangers, not the curious or inquisitive (or sometimes more knowing) eyes of his crew mates. Here, only one other man’s gaze mattered. Without removing his own single eye from him, Zoro set his glass down on the table and allowed his newly freed hand to seek out the uncovered side of Law’s cheek, brushing his fingers along the line of hair growing down the length of its side before taking hold beneath the sharp curve of his jaw.

“So now that we’re here, what exactly did you plan to do?” he asked.

“My plan...” Came a somewhat distracted murmur of reply as Law turned his head into his touch, pressing warm lips into the center of Zoro’s palm before continuing, “Was to see what kind of atmosphere the two of us could bring together, each by our own half, nothing more, without the need for celerity or discretion. Be ourselves, so to speak, But....”

But.

His words trailed there, eyes lidded, a startling glimmer of gold beneath the veil of thick, dark eyelashes, yet still held Zoro’s own intently.

But  
But  
_But._

“But... with the way you’ve been looking at me....” was all the swordsman could manage before leaning in to taste the older man’s lips, softy moving against them in small brushes of skin as their fingers tightened together; they’d never kissed so slow, so gentle before, nearly chaste. The tenderness that guided the gesture was heartfelt, even if it wasn’t entirely necessary. Some things were already mutually understood, didn't need to be expressed, while others remained unfulfilled; a thirst for the man that couldn't be quenched by way of such tiny samples of what he had to offer.

When they eventually parted from each other, Law murmured, as though reading the younger man's thoughts, “Let’s get out of here; I don’t even need the alcohol to lose my inhibitions around you, but I don’t want to give anyone here a free show, either.” He stood, then, all comely grace intact as he offered the swordsman his hand so as to not lose him among the maze of tables and bodies (so like the ever-changing streets). “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve already taken the liberty of getting us a room for the night. Just in case.”

“Upstairs?”

“Upstairs,” the older man confirmed, shouldering his nodachi before drawing them through the crowd and to the stairs, taken in twos with a quick stride to the top, eager and hurried to finally be truly alone together. Key from his pocket into the lock, door opened, Zoro found himself shoved up against it just after it had been kicked shut with unnecessary and rattling fervency. Law’s mouth was quickly upon his own, chests crushed together, bodies heaving together desperately. Whatever presence of mind the warlord was left with pulled Zoro’s swords from his hip and set them, as well as kikoku, to the side carefully and reverently together without breaking their kiss before Law’s tattooed fingers were drawn upwards to slide up the back of his neck and curl into where his hair was thinnest and finest at the nape.

Running on instinct alone, Zoro’s lips parted, arms slipping from his sides to drape over slender shoulders as he melted into Law, feeling his breath taken from him again and again as tongues slipped and slid together, licked and explored and twined. Hands began to traverse down the hard musculature of his body, rounding over its every dip and curve before stopping to pull apart the button and zip of his pants. And Zoro moaned for him, loud and liquid, unrestrained, with no need to keep quiet as his hips canted up, pressing the heat of his cock urgently against the palm that claimed it as soon as it sprung free, blood-thick and harder than he could ever remember.

“Fuck,” he managed out, voice quaking as Law began to work him with his hand, nibbling teeth into his fleshy lower lip and followed with a wet, hot, and sensual lick, “At the rate we’re going.. we’re… unngh… not even going to.. make it to the bed.”

He could feel the man’s lips curl into a spoiled and deviant smile against his own.

“That’s perfectly fine. We have all night to get there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to imagine LawZo going on a real date, but all I can think is that they'd have to begin it with sex rather than end it that way, so as to get it out of their systems to be able to enjoy other activities without distraction. xD Having two taciturn guys as your OTP is rough on a writer. Can you imagine them trying to come up with dinner topics? xD


	12. Worth a Thousand Words

Zoro was in no way an artist.

This was very obvious.

Over the brief period that Trafalgar Law had spent with the Straw Hat Pirates, the few times he’d observed the young and ambitious swordsman, he’d been immersed in no more than sleep and drink between rigorous training sessions. Which were painful to watch – in more than one sense of the word; not just the sympathy pains of watching his muscles flex and unflex in repetition, straining under obnoxious amounts of weight that would have had them all tearing, tendons snapping, rending apart any less of a man attempting to so much as lift them. But also, there was the pain of an erection in too-tight and uncomfortable jeans as he watched drops of sweat ride their way down solidly built shoulders and the enticing curve of his lower back, vanishing into a low-slung waistline.

It was clear that he was entirely a man of physical prowess and highly athletic, not at all artistically nor creatively inclined, and yet...

And yet, sitting on the deck of the ship, paper pad propped against his knees and fingers wrapped around graphite pencils, Zoro was furiously scribbling between his two hands with a third pencil clenched in his teeth that he occasionally swapped out with the others. It wasn’t just Law who found this behavior remarkably inconsistent with what little he knew of the younger pirate as a few of the man's fellow crew members glanced in his direction with mixed expressions between curiosity and apprehension, but said nothing. And in actuality… this wasn’t really of his concern nor was it any of his business.

Until otherwise invited into it, anyway, as Zoro stood up and approached him a short while later, notably looking aside and anywhere-not-at-Law directly, but hovering on some distant point over his shoulder, all uncertainty with his cheeks flushed a dark rose hue. Very cute.

“Uh... I drew this and I know you like this kind of thing, and....” his words trailed off, lip-bitten and awkward as he shoved his paper in front of Law while his other hand scratched through the thin, fine scruff of green hair running over the nape of his large neck.

With an eyebrow cocked inquisitively, Law looked at the man for a moment, let out a slow and patient exhale, then took the pad into his hands.

It was a drawing. Well, he _knew_ that much, but...

Not exactly what he was expecting. First, it was a GOOD drawing, all in perfect proportion with careful and well-detailed and artfully smudged shadow in differing line weights.

Second, it was of Zoro, as told by the overall build, the length of his hair, telltale dangles from his pierced right ear, and three trademark katana hanging from a sash at his waist.

And third, aside from his swords, he was completely nude. Tasteful, but still nude.

It was a rear view, showing all of his muscles in clear definition in an elongated stretch with his hands raised above his head and crossed at the forearm, weight slightly thrown to the left and drawing most of the pictures focus onto the curve of his naked right hip jutting out, draped enticingly with just that single strip of cloth. And thus the eyes would naturally come to focus on the rounds of his immaculate ass, just as Law had imagined it, plump and perfect as he’d watched it shift beneath his clothing as he trained, leaving him to wonder if the younger man had sensed his thorough and inappropriate observation.

‘Take a picture, it will last longer?’ he supposed that was one interpretation.

But not likely the case.

“You’re right, I do like this kind of thing,” he eventually said, eyes flickering back up at the younger man who looked like he was caught between bolting in embarrassment and standing his ground, but his frustration with what exactly he was attempting to convey and the medium he’d chosen to attempt it was obvious. Rising onto his feet, Law watched the swordsman’s uncertainty peak as he moved in close, pressing into his personal space, feeling his body heat roll over him in waves as he shoved the paper pad to his broad, muscular chest (so much eye candy), before continuing, “I have something to show you, as well, Zoro-ya. Something that I know we will both really like.”

With that, he brushed past him, past his flustered, stunted and stammered loss of words as the shichibukai bumped his shoulder almost playfully, moving away in fluid and unhurried steps towards the men’s quarters with his nodachi safely propped onto his shoulder. In the space of a few heartbeats, Zoro’s body seemingly caught up with his brain – or vice versa, perhaps – and began to follow behind.

Just as Law had anticipated, which was definitely good. There were few things he disliked more than making a false assumption. As a man of very few words himself, he knew that a picture was worth the thousand that the swordsman lacked and were always left open to too many variables, though some came more obvious than others.

Easily, Law had a few thousand more to add to that.

And Zoro was going to need a bigger sheet of paper for all of them.

_So very much bigger._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silly, tumblr inspired drabble at 12am, re: artists (and writers!) being socially awkward penguins and using smut to make friends. I don't actually think Zoro can draw, pretty sure he's horrible at it, but you know what...? Nothing, that's what. >_> Also, even an 8½ x 11 is plenty of space for art of Law's dick. . . probably. 
> 
> (but not for what he plans on doing with it).


	13. Pudding Cup

Prefixing any thought or statement with the word ‘bet’ as a transitive verb was a dangerous thing to do when among the Straw Hat crew. Zoro knew this, of course, yet stupidly –- or perhaps overly complacent from two years time spent around Dracule Mihawk, Perona, and a vast number of violent apes -– he sometimes let the word slip anyway. And Nami’s absence may or may not have subconsciously allowed this to happen, but a cackling Usopp was immediately there in her stead, claiming that it was only just that he collect a win in her stead.

The way he’d put it, 'I bet Luffy won’t last a day on this ship without breaking anything’ was a fair enough thing for anyone at all to say as they’d stepped foot on the Going Luffy-Sempai (not even Nami herself would ever take up the odds against that). But sadly, the only thing that had any intention of breaking the ship had been the environment. And despite a few swords drawn, a heavy glare, and some knock-kneed apologies, an hour later, the sharp-shooter came to him with a seemingly innocuous form of debt collection.

“All you have to do to settle the bet is eat this!” A proclamation that came with an outstretched hand, waving a cup in front of his face with a very suspicious and tight, lop-sided grin beneath his long nose that immediately had Zoro not-so-inclined to follow through.

“I don’t trust that. It probably has something weird in it,” he replied with typical cold disinterest, knocking the cup away from his person before releasing a large, sleepy yawn, and resettled where he’d relaxed himself against the deck’s rail. He just wanted to nap under the sun. Not a whole lot to ask of the world, he thought (but usually thought wrong).

“Nope! It’s just pudding! It’s actually really good!”

Right. Like Usopp never lied about fucking anything ever? Zoro smartly ignored him and shut his eyes.

“Honest, it’s my ma’s recipe – best in the world!” one of the Barto Club pirates exclaimed proudly. “I’d be honored if you tried it, Zoro-senpai!!”

 _Twitch._ He could feel some rather shit-cook-esque heart bubbles in the other man’s words, a little bit of noodling, a whole lot of gross. But the answer was still, “No.”

“It’s SUUUPER good, Zoro! These are some pretty hospitable guys,” came Franky’s voice, and that made Zoro open up his eyes and glance up at the shipwright, then at the surprising amount of Straw Hats and Barto Club swarming about him suddenly, most of them enjoying their own shares of pudding to some degree (Luffy had a massive bowl and cooking spatula to himself). There was no reassurance that the sight offered; he could sense something more sinister behind it all, and a fair bit of conspicuous laughter that kept his guard rightfully intact.

Even in Robin, too, as she spoke, “But with no spoon. That is the only exception. Think of it as a bit of a challenge.”

“Fine,” he replied, eyeing everyone suspiciously as he grabbed the cup from the sharpshooter and the gathering around him almost immediately dispersed, “I don’t see the point, though.”

Apparently he wasn’t alone in that thought as he heard a weary sigh from beside him and looked towards the lean figure of Trafalgar Law resting casually against the rail, not the world’s largest fan of shenanigans. Like himself, he wasn’t much the type that ate for pleasure inasmuch as sustenance, yet there was an empty cup and spoon beside the handsome older man, nonetheless. Undoubtedly devoured but not quite savored.

And was probably thinking something along the lines of 'I’m among the two most asinine crews I’ve ever met in my life, why am I punishing myself by staying here?’… or perhaps Zoro was just projecting on him. Just a little bit. Not that he thought negatively about his crew on a regular basis... but sometimes... only at times... a few murderous images couldn’t help but make their way to the forefront of his mind, none of which were indefensible from his point of view.

Well. Whatever. He’d eat the damn pudding if it made them happy and got them off his back. It looked harmless enough; a pale, off-white color, smooth and creamy, and he could smell vanilla in the mixture fairly strongly.

No spoon, though. Hmm.

Not so inclined to share an indirect kiss with anyone by stealing a used spoon, he slowly started off with dabbing his tongue into the center of the cup and rolling a small amount of its content into his mouth. Not too sweet, which was to his tastes, and the texture was actually pretty nice -- Zoro approved of it, he supposed, as he dipped back in for a larger glob of the thick, milky mixture. There didn’t seem to be anything at all wrong with it, and the more confident he was that the pudding wasn’t spiked or poisoned or otherwise dangerous, the faster he began to consume it, licking around the edges of the cup and lapping up larger dollops until his chin was pressed too firmly against the lip to be comfortable. And then took to using his fingers as eating utensils.

Every now and then as he ate, members of the crew would furtively glance towards his direction, giving him certain pause at their all-too-knowing, bemused expressions. But he dismissed this as idiocy as he swirled his index finger into the remnants of the creamy dessert and slid it into his mouth, licking and sucking the sweet vanilla flavor away from his sticky skin before delving back in for every last tiny glob. And as soon as the cup was empty, he set it aside, only to be immediately met with a chorus of snickers from the group of lingering men. And, of course, Robin, covering her musical, soft laughter rising among male voices behind a slender hand.

But they were no longer staring directly at him, and actually seemed to be actively trying to keep their heads elsewhere.

Save for Law, whose eerily pale, yellow eyes were entirely on Zoro, but looked a bit hazed and out of focus… the apples of his cheeks slightly flushed, and his breath labored as though he’d been sprinting a good distance or had exerted a large amount of energy in a short amount of time and was struggling to fully catch it.

He looked between Law and the other pirates, then back to the Heart captain who shifted beside him a bit uncomfortably.

“Zoro-ya, you have... there’s something....” the man gestured to the side of his own mouth with a tattooed hand, and the swordsman mimicked the gesture on himself (albeit with less overall elegance), wiping a small amount of creamy white that had smeared his cheek onto his fingers. As he licked them completely clean –- he thought it better than wiping it on his pants, anyway –- he heard Law’s breath hitch and saw his face go a touch darker, quickly averting his gaze.

And then _scowled_.

“You’re all a bunch of assholes,” Law growled before he gathered himself upon long legs and swept angrily away across the deck with a fairly homicidal aura, pulling the brim of his hat low over his eyes with one hand while his massive sword was shouldered along in the other. The man was nearly a blur as he passed Zoro by, but not so much that the reason he was so suddenly frustrated could escape anyone’s notice… maybe if didn’t insist on wearing such tight jeans… or maybe if he weren’t so… so…

(There wasn’t any helping it if Zoro’s jaw dropped just a tiny bit)

If he weren’t so. Well…

(Apparently, nature had been fairly kind to Trafalgar Law)

.. just on the milder side of _**damn**_. The man was fairly well-endowed, and this fact was very obviously outlined beneath the stretched denim in the front and slightly down the right side of his pant leg. And for a brief moment before the man was gone into the ship’s interior behind a slammed door, Zoro had a good eyeful of the shape of his thick and fully erect dick.

“Ahaha! Torao has a huge–” Usopp’s hand immediately clamped over Luffy’s mouth before he could finish that thought, but Zoro was fairly certain the words _boner_ and _for Zoro_ were in the follow-through.

Stammering to reply, he could feel his face go stupidly hot, burning up to the tips of his ears. “.. W- what?”

“Hey, Zoro, maybe you should go lend him a hand with that,” Franky called out, joining the rest of the crew in their snickers. “No spoon necessary!”

“Maybe you should all mind your own business,” he groused, leaning back and crossing his arms in front of his chest before closing his eyes, intent on ignoring everyone for a fair while and getting back to his nap. But not as easy to shut out as a group of irritating busybodies was his own brain slowly putting the dots together of what had just actually occurred. From point A: vanilla pudding. To Point B: Straw Hat shenanigans. To Point C: Law’s sexual frustration.

And then it finally clicked.

“... ... ... You guys really are assholes,” he said with a huff as he finally stood up on his feet and began to make his way towards the direction that the older swordsman had disappeared to; he’d be annoyed with them more later for tricking him into making a total whore out of himself... or just be very internally grateful... depending on how this all played out.

But not before grabbing up the spoon left behind in Law’s empty and abandoned pudding cup, and tucked it into his pocket before his crew had any other bright ideas (and hoping Law had a few better ones). _Just in case_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted this to my tumblr a few months ago and forgot about it! I have a thing for sexual innuendo, I've come to realize. And how much Law enjoys the thought of Zoro eating creamy white stuff off his fingers (though that's kind of a given, imo). :D


	14. Planning Attack On the Man With a Rack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lovely anon on tumblr asked earlier today, "Who do you think that would make the first move? Law or Zoro?" To which I have no concrete answer because it could go many hilarious and/or sexy ways between either of them and their very distinct personalities, based mostly around varying factors. But, UST happens to be one of my favorite things to write EVER, and...... this just kinda... slipped.
> 
> Also, Law likes to think a lot about Zoro's big knockers.
> 
> I think we can all agree that they're super important.

From the point of view of those who knew him well, Law seemed to live a very structured sort of life by a strict set of self-imposed rules; personal ones, as well as those that were for the betterment of his crew, their well-being, or morale, though likely a well thought out combination of all three. He was, after all, a product of his many successes and few failures and took their lessons as they came. However, this didn’t render him incapable of deviation and adaptation as needed, nor did he act predictably in any given situation as, like most things, were variable and came with a certain amount of caveats.

And like any human being, however operating on a somewhat higher intellectual faculty than the majority of his peers (augmented all the more in his present surroundings – the Straw Hats were, for the most part, fucking morons… so much that he’d have thought the moronics to be something communicable if the likes of Sanji and Robin, more sedate than the rest of the crew, hadn’t existed as variables)… the keyword _human_  still stuck with him, affixed to the word _male_ , and though he found that compounding these elements with the words ’ _has needs_ ’ to be completely cliche and in poor taste at any other moment…

He could only make excuses for himself by arguing that any other moment didn’t have Roronoa Zoro in it, who had a certain manner of rudely inflicting anyone in his nearby vicinity with _needs_. 

It didn’t mean that these things needed to consume him nor be the focus of his drive, but as the man insisted so much on stripping out of his shirt on days where the weather was even a touch above balmy, Law became a bit less sure of himself and his rules were becoming harder and harder to abide. Or even remember what they were, for that matter. Or remember what he was doing, what else had been on his mind, or how he’d even ended up on the deck of the Straw Hat’s ship in the first place. But didn’t matter, as he watched the younger man polish his sword under the heat of the sun. When a lone droplet of sweat collected other smaller beads and began to cascade down the plane between Zoro’s large and impressive pectoral muscles, only to sandwich between them, all reasoning became very much peripheral.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that fraternizing amongst pirate crews, be it someone else’s or his own, was large on his list of things underscored with ‘do not do’. But again, _caveats_  – and also _large, sweaty pectorals_ , and the fact that he’d never felt his mouth go so aridly dry while swallowing back an irritating amount of salivation; no rule was intact to compensate for this reaction (entirely a new one), and thus, he found it necessary to… give himself a little wiggle room in clause.

As he quietly observed Zoro wipe his blades, lubricating them with mineral oils and wiping them to a brilliant shine with delicate sweeps of cotton, an unhealthy amount of lust and cunning alike settling throughout his bones. And he waited, waited, lounging back against the mast from his seat upon its surrounding bench, confident and comfortable with the sureness of all of his undertakings (again, a product of his many successes) until…

“What?” Zoro eventually looked towards him, as self-aware as Law had hoped, pausing mid-stroke with an expression adorned with a narrowed skepticism of the older man’s intentions.

And rightfully so.

“Nothing. Just admiring your… stroking… technique,” Law replied, the pitch of his voice and careful pause giving away that Proper Care and Maintaining of Swords 101 was not what he had in mind. “I do appreciate a man of great skill.” Head tilting, slender throat bared, he continued to indulge in the sight of the man, let the knowledge darken his gaze of every place he’d like to touch first, which curves he wished to feel out, golden skin practically begging to be mapped with teeth and tongue and bitten and marked, all unabashed. But lost in the innuendo, naturally, was that these thoughts represented more than just physical attraction alone – Law was a little more sophisticated than that. As much as he craved that generously sculpted body, there was a sharp and cunning intellect guarded beneath it all that he longed to connect with in every conceivable way. 

But that could also get messy. There was potential for attachment, proverbial strings tying him up and dragging him down and running as complex and complicated as he could really be at the fine bottom line of his _human_  and _male_  and _has needs_  psyche. But in the same farthest reaches of Law’s self, he was also very simple – not immune to the desire to hear soft declarations of fidelity and devotion murmured with the same quality that the swordsman might used to moan his name through the darkness of his bedroom.

Lost in a moment of imagined bliss, Law barely caught a muttered, “Thanks.” And that single-eyed gaze he’d patiently awaited to give him proper acknowledge was dropped back to his task, slowly stroking along the lines of his blade with hands that should have been wrapped around the hardened steel of the warlord’s own physique rather than the sword he carefully, reverently bathed once more with oil.

He could practice and maintain as much magniloquence as he liked, but it didn’t change the fact that his surrounding peers, Zoro not excluded… were still pervaded by moronicism. In this case, subtle innuendo (or rather, anything not spelled out in bright fucking flashing headlines) had all of the absorption rate in the swordsman’s mind of all of his precious oil dumped in vat of water. Buoyant on the surface, never quite sinking in no matter how shaken up or stirred into some reactive state. They just didn’t mix.

But there were still rules to abide, and falling into vulgar displays and practices was not among them, but rather outlined as being against them. As effective as outright stating, ‘You’re hot, I’d like to put my tongue down your throat and use your perky nipples as my personal chew toys’ would be, and likely accomplish a great deal in a much shorter period of time, patience was yet a virtue intact and not a waste of time when met with rewards that could be all the more worthwhile for the wait. Build up. Tension. Not always a bad thing. Depending, of course, on how he decided to spin the situation about to look upon his lust for the idiot a little more favorably.

A thought concluding with Law carefully, slowly stripping himself of his own shirt (two can play at this damn game), dropping it carelessly to the grass before he stretched out against the length of the mast behind him. Cracks ripped through his spine as it elongated with his arms reaching up above his head, crossing at tatooed forearms as he arched almost indecently. An exhale, a sigh, an exaggerated breath parting his lips in deep satisfaction as he let his bare skin meet the warmth of the sun.

From the peripheral of his eyes, largely shuttered beneath the shadowy drape of lashes, Law noticed Zoro going very still and felt the weight of his gaze sweep the rather ample view he so thoughtfully provided. If nothing else, let it be said that Law couldn’t be generous; perhaps he didn’t have the broad pectorals nor the gentle glow of sweat glistening over his skin giving the illusion of what it might be like to, bluntly put, fuck like rabbits. But he had his own natural gifts as well and he knew exactly what to do with them.

Dropping his arms to his sides, Law rolled his neck, let his muscles relax and tense beneath the other man’s careful scrutiny, and in that darkened gaze, there shone a vast potential for further possibilities.

From all of the vantages that he’d taken upon in his careful observation of the younger swordsman, Law knew that Zoro had his own set of principals – lush in his indulgences, but also carried the weight of his own variety of self-imposed disciplines.

And in this was a large parallel in their respective identities, captain and vice-captain, Heart Pirate and Straw Hat Pirate, structured and habitual, _mano e mano_ : this didn’t render him incapable of deviation and adaptation as needed, nor did he act predictably in any given situation as, like most things, were variable and came with a certain amount of caveats.

And, also _human_.

Also _male_.

And if ‘has needs’ bore little to no value in Roronoa Zoro’s day to day happenings as it typically did in his own, Law hoped the younger man was well prepared for the inevitable.

And if not, it wouldn’t be that much of a shame.

To have a helplessly dazed and needy Zoro pinned beneath his weight, that wondrous chest heaving all labored and breathless, all bets (and rules) could pretty much fuck off.


	15. Somniloquence

As Law looked towards Zoro and Chopper napping, sprawled together out on the deck of the sunny after having succumbed to the warm, pleasant sunshine of the afternoon, he thought little of it. The swordsman’s legs were akimbo and his mouth open wide, breathing like the month of March: in like a lion and out like a lamb, noisy snores and gentle exhales. Whatever page of the book the small doctor had been reading from before dozing was long lost, pages fluttering to a breeze skimming off the surface of the ocean. His face was smothered in haramaki, and as he muttered something aloud that sounded a lot like “Calamine on a cape,” Law paid him no mind as he'd heard worse or more unusual statements come out of sleep.

Relaxing against the foremast, it was with a sense of déjà vu and simple understanding that his mind began to drift. One thought in particular stood out, taking him back to a time when a small, white bear often did the same when in much similar situations. Once he’d yelled out, “vitamin!” suddenly and repeatedly, effectively startling his at-the-time pillow (which, as it turned out, had been a rough interpretation of a game of poker gone in his favor, but the words ‘i win!’ didn’t transcribe properly from dream vocal chords to the real ones).

When he imagined it, pictured it in his head in deep reverie, he nearly smiled to himself. But only nearly. The expression didn't quite happen. Not because it shouldn’t, but because he wouldn't let it, somehow feeling like an instinctual mechanism to keep it guarded. There were too few reasons that Law ever had to truly smile, and thus he’d noticed more acutely that those who smiled often seldom ever meant it (with the exception of Luffy, but that was far from the only facet of the straw hat that was completely anomalous, and therefore, disregarded).

But it wasn't ultimately important, either way, because his memories carried far more weight than any means by which they could possibly be projected, and projecting them more than necessary could potentially render them meaningless, he thought. Perhaps Zoro might have somewhat understood what that meant... but Law still possessed no actual inclination to share. The similarities in their situations, though, were still intact: how it was to have a small, warm animal in his lap, the pervasive feeling -- or need, rather -- of protectiveness that overcame him in spite of all things. Like an older brother, like a watchdog, like someone who'd been gifted with something fragile and vulnerable to keep safe. Namely, that something was _trust_.

The years came and went by in its constant, rapid mutability, but still that reciprocal feeling remained as his most coveted treasure. Even with such a large remindment of that fact playing out before his eyes, that he could see an image of himself and Bepo transposed into that peaceful moment, he felt incredibly out of place. Not because he was watching two sleepers longer than what might have been considered polite, but because his comparable relationship to his navigator lacked a strict definitive basis to form any true comparison. And giving it one... to give it a name, a shape, an identity, was not something he'd cared to consider as it carried a melancholic weight behind it as much as it did a fleeting sense of joy.

And thus he let his eyes fall closed to the adorable sight of Zoro and Chopper, the most effective off switch to an ill-mannered stare.

That bear had grown and grown and grown so quickly in his arms -- either the heart captain's lap had become too small or the bear had become too large, and their roles had undergone dramatic reversal as time seemingly whipped by with centripetal force dragging them into its endless spin. Bepo, now an adult in his own right, was much larger than Law; went from being the sheltered to the shelter. The thick fur that held his captain warm, the shadow that comforted his eyes from the sun, and remained every bit as much the glue that held together the flimsy broken pieces of his grown-up self in the present as much as his angry and embittered child self of the past.

Because it wasn't as if he'd announced to the world that he was going to become a pirate captain and men just suddenly lined up in droves, no. In the beginning, it was boy and bear. Alone, cold, impoverished, starving, and without each other and the mutual drive that kept them both moving to press on through a mostly discompassionate world, then surely, they had nothing at all.

If Law had to live without those moments in the past, his one and only friend pulling himself up onto Law's crossed legs uninvited as he poured over medical texts, nuzzling a furred cheek to his palm -- often disrupting the hold he had on his book until he acquiesced to a petting -- maybe, he might not have learned through those gestures what it meant to thrive again after all is lost.

And though he would never admit it, not to himself, not to anyone at all, he began to feel very lonesome behind his shut eyes. He missed his own crew. He missed his own ship. And most of all, he missed his navigator.

He wanted to see them all again.

This was his final thought as he began to fall under the same spell cast by the heat of the sun on his skin, as much as the two straw hat's curled together on the deck. Swordsman and reindeer... 

_Surgeon and bear_...

And when he opened his eyes again, half-blinded, bleary and leaden with sleep, he could tell that the sky was beginning to darken and fall prey to inevitable dusk just by the way the breeze was much cooler than before as it swept through his unkempt hair. And for a moment, he thought he felt fingers there too -- mind playing tricks, or maybe a lingering aftermath of some dream. But as he became more and more aware and reality more pervasive, he realized that there was warmth at one side. Too warm, with body heat pressing into his right flank that he had pressed himself straight back into.

Green hair and gold earrings swam in his peripheral vision and tickled his forehead. He could smell gun oil, soap, and sweat. He could feel inhales and exhales and make out a heartbeat pattering a rhythm of either real or imagined complacency.

When Law moved to lift his head, a hand was there to gently but firmly place it back down onto the strong shoulder it had been resting upon. And though he should have struggled, refused any comfort Zoro had to offer, he did neither of those things and let himself remain still, quiet, let himself be soothed by vacant mindedness and fingers slowly combing through his hair, awakening a thousand nerve endings that had forgotten how good that could really feel.

"You were talking in your sleep." Zoro's voice was soft, muted, reaching no further than the older man's ears. He didn't offer any other explanation to his presence at Law’s side, and that was okay. It wasn't necessary. Only welcome. And he could honestly say, even if not from this particular person, he was almost used to it.

"And what did I say?"

"Something like," he paused, head tilting, throat bared to the accidental press of Law's cheek, " _Nerve-issued compost_ , I think."

With a soft huff of breath, somewhat Law's version of a laugh, he shut his eyes and let his body relax, calm, let himself stop caring, let the younger man’s arms around him be like a blanket to the awakening of the first sliver of moon appearing in the sky, and let his conscious mind recede like the setting sun.

One day, this too would be a good memory to keep. The first one of its kind that came without paws, but with human fingers that held any and all lonesome thoughts at bay like a shield.

He nearly smiled to himself. But only nearly. The expression didn't quite happen. Not because it shouldn’t, but because he decided that it could be saved for later. Maybe when Zoro could actually see it, and possibly appreciate it for what it meant.

_Trust_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had two seperate anonymous asks about Chopper and Zoro in relation to Law, one being an HC and another being a question, annnnnnnnd... I like to respond with fics (hey, writing pendanterists always love to say 'show, don't tell', although i don't think this is what they mean). :D
> 
> But. Look at all this cute. People send me cute things all the time. My inbox is teeming with the stuff. I mean, here I am, being broody and generally gothy and doing my business of writing about horrible things (or porn things) and having blood paraphilia needs with Law, but still am sent total shmoop and I know they secretly do it because they know I'm a marshmallow underneath my Edgar Allen Poe exterior and can't help myself. T^T
> 
> (but no, seriously, i love all my messages so much, thank you guys - keep 'em coming <3)


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